


led by a beating heart.

by hyzkoa



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Coffeeshop AU, Fluff, M/M, depressed viktor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-15 07:23:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9224813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyzkoa/pseuds/hyzkoa
Summary: Viktor Nikiforov is a businessman, suffocated by the motonony of his life and on the verge of giving in to despair. Katsuki Yuuri is someone he just so happens to meet by mere coincidence, but his heart flutters with new life thanks to this normal encounter.Or "cute barista Yuuri and depressed successful businessman Viktor."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> a companion fic to [this art](https://twitter.com/Srganuch/status/816243965124980737) by @Srganuch on twitter.
> 
> pls leave feedback (praying emoji)

Viktor Nikiforov, age 27, business man.

Correction, a _successful_ business man; he didn’t become a top notch entrepreneur to be grouped with those who barely tried, who were satisfied with the low salary and desk job.

Not that he ever was arrogant, but he had some pride in his achievements. The same pride that guided him to the very position he found himself in now: surrounded by luxury and stacks of money that kept piling up around him, which were gradually consumed with time, sometimes spent in pointless things he had no real interest in. Spending money became wasting it, and even then, he still had more than he knew what to do with.

 _I should feel great_ , he sometimes thought. Those heaps of money were the product of his efforts, of a lifetime dedication to a single goal that was now steady in his hands. He could do anything he ever dreamed to do as a kid now that he was, to put it simply, rich! Yet, he felt no excitement whatsoever to whatever places that money would take him.

Better food and new leashes for Makacchin were nice and all, but aside from that, he found himself feeling nothing from every new purchase, from every new piece of expensive furniture added to his spacious, lonely apartment. For a moment, he felt like the excellent view he had of the city was there to remind him that there were people with less that felt more alive than he did right now.

He had nothing to do. No hobbies, no interests, no dreams or aspirations besides the one he had already accomplished with his job. He longed for that resolve he once felt when everything had just  begun, when paperwork was a challenge instead of another task he’d automatically complete, almost subconsciously – that is, if it wasn’t handed to his underlings.

He wished, albeit briefly, to be one of those that were, according to society and the work’s _hierarchy_ , below him. Some seemed happier, some seemed to have more reasons to feel like Viktor did, as their economical struggle brought them just as much stress as any head of a family would experience after comparing their bills to their salaries.

After all, how could he complain when he was comfortably sitting at the top of the mountain?

Well, he could, but he wouldn’t. He had no one to waste his words with about his position; he had no one that’d understand – Yuri was obviously out of the question, as he refused to trouble someone almost half his age with his problems. Yakov would probably try to help, if he opened up, but that same pride that led him to his fortune held him back, now guiding him in a path to ruin, taking him deeper into a darkness that he hadn’t realized accompanied him until it was a bit too late.

It’s not that he wanted _more_ , that the top wasn’t _enough_ ; that ambition was long gone as something shallower replaced it. The truth of his reality was a big harder to pronounce.

The unspoken confessions to those few that were close to him would go to his dog instead, burying his face into his brown fur as silent tears rolled down pale cheeks, words barely above a whisper as he clung to his best friend, hoping that maybe, if he hugged Makacchin long enough, he’d see a solution to this problem.

Nothing came, just the cries of a loyal companion that sympathized with his pain, even if he didn’t understand it.

* * *

With boredom proving itself to be a bigger burden than putting casual clothes on, he stepped out of the building, a hand gripping Makacchin’s leash whilst the other tried to find something to do with his phone, pretending to not care for a moment about something more than work calls or messages that he’d hope would arrive if he prayed enough for them.

There was nothing, though, and his phone’s deadly silence pushed a sigh out of him.

He looked at the streets before him like a challenge he didn’t know if he was willing to take in anymore. Shoulders dropped, looking down at his friend who waited for him, small black eyes looking at him expectantly. He didn’t want to admit that he had stopped enjoying walking out with Makacchin, but even he couldn’t force himself to act as if he was having fun when his coworkers or few friends were around him.

Makacchin wouldn’t judge him, right?

The walk went by faster than expected, the Japanese chatter around him going unnoticed as he sunk into his own world, walking the route from memory already, those few months of new monotony leaving him to act automatically like a robot, the only difference from his behavior in his homeland being that he tried less to put up a smiling façade in front of strangers.

Being transferred to Japan for a better position in a company that wouldn’t stop growing had sounded mildly like a good idea back then, but now that he thought back on it, he had only been lying to himself with the hope of getting out of his current state with just new surroundings.

If traveling hadn’t appealed him back then, it made no sense for it to change anything when it was forced. If anything, it only made it worse.

The busy streets of Tokyo had only overwhelmed him, resulting in more isolation as he scrapped for all the comfort he could in the tranquility of his bedroom with Makacchin in his arms. The little motivation he had had in Russia, fueled by the decency he had to have as a human being and functional adult was slowly disappearing, getting up to work becoming a nightmare (even if the work itself was easy) and doing things as mundane as making breakfast becoming extremely mentally exhausting. It felt like he was losing his mind every day that he woke up to the same alarm, the same silence that haunted him back in Russia following him to his new apartment in Japan, heaving down on his chest as it squeezed the energy out of him first thing in the morning. He couldn’t bear it. The people, his work, his life, everything.

Viktor escaped from it before it drove him insane, fleeing under the excuse of a needed break for his health (it wasn’t completely a lie). Whether they interpreted it as mental or physical, he didn’t care. If they found out him traveling out of the city, he didn’t care. If this made him lose his reputation to put him in a bad position before his higher-ups as it stained all of his life accomplishments, he didn’t care.

He didn’t care about what happened to his job, to his money, to his body or to himself in general.

One good thing was that the uneasiness the busy streets had brought upon him was now gone with his new, albeit temporal, surroundings; calmer in comparison to living in the business core of the capital.

He looked up, noticing he had stopped walking; Makacchin sniffing plants and cracks on the floor as he waited for Viktor to get his shit together.

As his gaze ascended, he wasn’t met with the tall trees of the mark or the uninterrupted morning sky. Instead, he faced the hotel where he was staying. His expression must’ve been bad enough to drag some sympathy from strangers, as a brown haired girl stared at him before quickly skipping away once their eyes met.

He dreaded returning inside. Even if they weren’t the cold, stylish walls he was supposed to call home, the loneliness within them was the same. His gaze shifted between the street he knew every inch of and the building before him, trying to weigh them next to each other, hoping that comparing them would help him feel better about the task himself, soothed by the thought that it wasn’t as exhausting as the opposite one. That’s how he made choices now.

Walking more won by an inch, so he went ahead and traced over his steps. Though, not soon after, his steps grew slower, feeling miserable as he traced over the route he was sure Makacchin was sick of at this point (he ignored his dog’s wagging tail). It almost felt cruel that, whenever he’d muster the energy to take him out, it’d be only a short walk where he’d see the same things over and over again. The fact that his emptiness was affecting the lifestyle of his only friend only sunk his mood deeper.

Viktor stood at an intersection.

He tightened his grip around the leash, and changed his route.

Maybe it was the fresh breeze of a new year that pushed his legs to turn on that corner that he would’ve walked right past otherwise, staring at the street he was supposed to cross along the other passerby before forcing himself to turn right, concealing a sigh within him as he saw Makacchin wag his tail, happy to see new territory (to claim). With the beginning of a new route, Makacchin took his time stopping in almost every single corner of post to leave his mark, erasing others.

The poodle deviated from his straight forward stroll to pull Viktor towards a couple, sat in a small table in front of a warm-looking shop. The smell of their snacks must’ve attracted his dog, and he pulled lightly from the leash, barely looking at the happy couple that beamed at the big poodle wagging his tail at their food. Makacchin wouldn’t budge, however. He couldn’t quiet catch something that sounded like a question directed at him, but his brief cluelessness was enough for the girl sitting the closest to Makacchin to ask again, this time keep her eyes on the dog as if she expected him to answer. _She wants his name_ , Viktor thought, his answer delayed as he observed how she showed no inhibitions in petting his dog’s head with both of her hands, making faces at him as if he was a baby.

“So cute _!!_ ” The other girl leaned forward in the table.

“Way bigger, though. Look at these paws.” She took Makacchin’s front paws, squeezing them softly. Her partner couldn’t  seem to pretend any longer like she didn’t want to play with him neither, leaving her seat to kneel next to Makacchin, taking one paw as her spare hand caressed the dog’s back. _So fluffy_ , she kept muttering.

Viktor was, to put it simply, uncomfortable. Caught off-guard, he wasn’t sure what to do or what to say aside from giving them Makacchin’s name, staying awfully stiff as they beamed now over his dogs ‘cute name’. His choice on extending his time outside was starting to seem like the wrong one – not that he now was completely asocial (at least he didn’t want to believe that) and hated people, but when he felt as tired as he did, his forced smiles probably weren’t anywhere near to looking real. Dealing with strangers was uncomfortable, especially when he was absentmindedly listening to their words, which he was well aware would cause him more awkwardness if he found them looking at him again, waiting for an answer.

“Ah, Katsuki-kun!” The one in the floor called out, stopping midway from returning to her seat to wave in the direction Viktor had come from. “Look!”

Viktor embraced himself to be standing there for another while as Makacchin became the center of attention, his dog’s gaze still in the snacks now forgotten on the table. A sigh was kept concealed in his throat, forced down, fingers playing with the dark leash in his hand as he heard another pair of footsteps approaching.

He decided to at least be decent and greet the one who’d be probably gushing about his dog in a few seconds as well. He kept the same forced smile on as he barely turned his head, almost eyeing them out of the corner of his eyes . . .

 _Oh_.

His feigned smile disappeared. Their eyes met. Time stopped – or was it his heart?

He was sure he was seeing the girl next to him move her mouth, talking probably, but he couldn’t hear anything. Not even Makacchin’s panting at the snacks on the table. Nothing.

Time seemed to resume slowly.

“Isn’t he cute?” Said the girl, kneeling down again to Makacchin’s height.

“Yeah.” The man answered softly, absent mindedly—No, _Katsuki_. That’s what they called him, no? Katsuki answered, his eyes still fixed on Viktor’s, but eyes soon widened as he realized something, red taking over his face as his shoulders tensed up. “I-I mean--!” His free hand was a graphic representation of his sudden panic; gesturing wildly about before he looked down to finally notice Makacchin’s presence. “A-ah . . . Yes. He’s really cute.” He seemed to be forcing his eyes on the poodle, but failed miserably, blinking quickly, eyes shifting from one thing to another as he unnecessarily pushed the glasses that now were too far up his face.

The girls and he had a short conversation that Viktor didn’t really pay attention to, his eyes almost glued to Katsuki’s red face. The man seemed to be avoiding his gaze now, as he would look at Viktor from the corner of his eyes, as if checking if he was still looking at him only to avert his gaze again.

“W–well, I need to go back inside.” The red had slightly diminished from his face, but it lingered on his cheeks, lighting them up adorably. Viktor could’ve kept staring at him blatantly and he almost wished he had been able to, but that comment snapped him out of his obvious admiration, seeing Katsuki walk past him before bidding a brief goodbye to his clients and Viktor, headed to the door. –

After Viktor’s eyes seemed to move elsewhere from the Japanese man’s face, he got a glimpse of the flowers he had been carrying this whole time.

Daffodils - New beginnings.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> blows kisses at the sky for all the ppl who left comments gg
> 
> the gay adventures continues

The door closed behind him, any sound that had surrounded him in the streets or the lobby now gone in the deafening silence of his apartment. He moved almost subconsciously, automatically getting his shoes off and leaving his room card on the nearest surface before taking Makacchin’s collar off. He sat on the bed, a hand on his dog’s hands as he jumped onto the mattress to place himself against his owner.

At that moment, everything sunk in.

In his way back to the hotel, he hadn’t thought much about it – he felt dazed, looking back as he walked off to get another glimpse of the shop before it’d disappear as he forced himself to leave the street. The only thought in his mind being the fresh memory of the man’s face blushing until he found himself in the door to his room.

He dwells on the events, reviewing every step that led him to be standing with his dog in front of that shop.

“Isn’t he cute?”

“ _Yeah._ ” That’s what he answered, his eyes nowhere near Makacchin, fixed on Viktor instead.

He falls onto Makacchin, burying his face on his fur as he felt the delayed heat finally hitting his face in waves, his heart beating faster as he remembered everything vividly. He doubted he had ever seen anyone so adorable and even straightforward (even if it was a mistake, Viktor ignored that part) in his whole life. Boring had been a way to describe his life for a while now, but right now that word was nothing but an indistinct blur on the back of his head as he put all of his attention in not letting go of the memory of the man’s face and voice. His want to hear him talk more quickly became a need, the evidence being the genuine smile that, after years of being unable to pull one for he lacked the reasons and spirit, suddenly was all on his face, brightening his features up as he kept thinking about that single answer. _Yeah_.

The fact that Katsuki called him cute settled in, as well as the fact that Viktor stared at him and that he was stared at.

With a new found determination, he stood up from his bed, startling the poodle who curiously observed him as he took rapid steps across the room. While he had thought back in the street to go back immediately into the shop, he now was grateful he didn’t; without his wallet and with Makacchin, it would’ve been a bit harder to order a coffee than it should be, and smoothness had to be his first impression. If he had acted without thinking and left his dog with the girls to enter and try to order anything without money, just to look at Katsuki a little bit longer, he would’ve possibly ruined that completely. Now, that thought held him back from taking his wallet and bursting out of the door again, using the new rush of motivation for something better than compulsive actions.

He brushed his hair, this time out of desire to do it rather than obligation. He chose the nicest clothes he had brought with him, truly caring for the first time about his appearance for his personal gain rather than a work-related one.

The man he saw in the mirror seemed to be alive compared to the man he had seen brush his teeth this morning.

He hadn’t noticed that he had been so overwhelmed by emotions ha hadn’t felt before, not with such intensity, that the loneliness that always crushed him after walking through any door that led to the place he stayed in disappeared for a moment.

* * *

A tingling sensation danced thorough his body as he walked away from the hotel, eagerly taking the turn to walk down that same street, his heart beating at the thought that he could even cross paths with him. Many things swirled in his mind, increasing the more he approached his destination. It was a quiet storm within him, something no one could’ve ever deciphered through the calm expression he wore now. It reached the point where the only thing he could see through the mess his thoughts had become was, once again, Katsuki’s blushing face. The face of the person was currently making him feel so . . . different, but in a good way.

 _Katsuki_. That was his name. His last name, probably. He had worked long enough meeting and looking at Japanese names on endless mountains of files to know that he had seen the same kind before as many other workers surnames. He wondered what his first name would sound like when he asked for it. He wondered what kind of meaning would it have. He may have learned Japanese almost forced – and that was probably obvious in his way of speaking it –, but right now he felt almost lucky that he’d understand the meaning behind the kanji of his name if he were to see it.

Spotting the familiar tables outside the shop, he didn’t do anything to hold back the smile spreading in his lips, his pace fastening in the slightest, nails brushing against his palm now that he had nothing – Makacchin’s chain – to play and clench around.

The couple from before was gone, the table now empty as it waited for another couple of clients to put use to it. He peaked into the shop through the glass as he walked past the tables, his body almost being lifted off the ground as he inhaled deeply with pure joy as he could see the black-haired man behind the counter, smiling and bowing slightly at the leaving customer.

He looked as lovely as Viktor remembered him to be.

But keeping his eyes locked on him as he continued to walk brought immediately its consequences, almost taking down a chair that would’ve unleashed an awful chain reaction as he walked into it. Though, he was too busy checking if the barista had noticed to see that other people outside had.

To his relief, he hadn’t.

Before the entrance, he was ignorant to his hand shaking slightly against the handle as he pushed the glass door in.

He had been in dozens of coffee shops before, caffeine being a big companion in his early days when he had enough work to pull frequent all-nighters. Of course, as anything else good in his life, it felt as if the liking he had to it had only lasted a second before the only thing a cup of it represented was the burden of addiction as well as a trip to a nutritionist, whose recommendations would go blatantly ignored, the fake smile on his lips dropping as soon as he left, the folders with his eating plans left forgotten in a shelf along with other old documents he no longer needed. If he could have stopped replacing important meals with coffee, he would have before needing – being forced too – to see a doctor about his health.

He knew that even if he tried to eat properly again, the only place that’d take him was the bathroom, his head against the toilet seat as the stomachache he’d soon feel after eating would become too torturous to be calmed down with pills that had already lost their effect. He heard many people saying that one’s thoughts and mood could affect one’s physical well-being, but his neutrality on that thought changed as he took in smell of caffeine in the shop with a single inhale, the hints of upcoming nausea already threatening his day despite he wasn’t feeling as apathetic as he usually was.

Needless to say, the smell of caffeine didn’t bring pleasant memories, neither to his brain nor his stomach. Yet, with his attention laying somewhere else, it didn’t feel as much of an annoyance as it would’ve been before. He tried to keep it like that.

The line to the counter was short, only a few people that were walking representations of how much he’d have to wait before facing the man. In his eyes, that was the only existing line, disregarding any other employer as he walked quickly to stand behind the last person.

Thanks to his height, it was easy to look over the heads of the people in line before him to glance at the barista, the corners of his mouth twitching upward every time their eyes met, leaving him craving for more as the other quickly deviated his eyes back to the customers he had to attend.

The flowers he had seen him carrying into the shop earlier were now beside him. Only a handful of them, though, as he soon spotted the rest placed in small vases on each table inside the shop. A simple yet cute decoration.

When Viktor finally got to stand before him, the counter in between, he felt something warm flutter within him once his gaze leaves the cashier to meet his.

“Hello—” He looks down at the name tag. It wasn’t written in kanji. “ _Yuuri_.”

Yuuri smiled back. “Hello.”

Silence.

“W-welcome to—”

“I noticed—”

Their words collided, silence following again as both waited for the other to continue. Viktor talked first.

“You bought these today, no? Is there a shop nearby? I’d like some for myself.” A lie, but any kind of conversation would be enough for him. If Yuuri liked flowers, then he’d even find one of his interests, besides coffee-making. “The hotel I’m staying at is terribly plain.”

“Ah, yes!” Yuuri lowered his gaze to the vase next to him, pristine white flowers with a bright yellow center sitting imposing within the glass, demanding of the attention of any customer that would be nearby. “There is one a block away called Hanakotoba. I thought adding them to the shop would give a better vibe. She told me these mean ‘new beginnings’.”

He had to admit that looking at them did give him a nice feeling, but that could’ve just been because of Yuuri’s hand fixing the vase’s position. Maybe he could even buy the same and hope that their meaning would do some magic to his life.

“I’ll have to drop by later.” He smiled softly, not averting his gaze for even a second, which only fed more fire into Yuuri’s blush. He wasn’t sure he had ever liked brown so much until he noticed it on his eyes.

“S—so, what might I get you?”

“Hmm . . .”

Viktor took his sweet time to order, dragging out his time at the counter a bit too obviously as he hummed, reading the names at least four times in a slow fashion before moving onto the next one, looking up at Yuuri every now and then before returning to the list. He didn’t want anything in particular; some of the names didn’t even sound appealing as he’d only remember drinking them in abusive doses and none of the snacks seemed appetizing, neither, even if there were ones he could admit looked beautiful. He only wanted to see and talk to the nervous barista for as much as he could. But he had to at least make it look like he was planning on spend his money on something. He would’ve bought the largest, most expensive beverage if he didn’t know how that’d just kill him, so he settled for a small one. A simple coffee with milk.

Though he didn’t feel as mad as to curse whoever called Yuuri to the back of the shop, he didn’t put effort into hiding his disappoint neither. Taking the small cup from the counter, he left to take a seat, somewhere close where he could still look at him when he returned to serve coffee.

He reluctantly took small sips every so often, his coffee’s temperature gradually changing from a pleasing warm to a bitter cold – and he had barely drank a third of it. The rest of his afternoon was spent in that small shop, exchanging glances with the barista every now and then as the amount of clients coming and going begun to reduce.

His finger played with his cup, sliding across the edge, resting his face on palm as he looked at Yuuri.

He hadn’t planned to be this obvious, but at this point in his life he didn’t care. He was feeling oddly peaceful for once, the stinging pain in his stomach only a slight bother compared to the organ-crushing torture it was some other days, so he didn’t care if his emotions slipped subconsciously onto his body language.

Is this how it felt to have a crush? He didn’t remember the last time he felt like this, or the last time he had a crush for that matter.

He was snapped out of his realistic daydream, straightening his position as Yuuri left the counter. He looked around, there was no one left and the bright sunlight seeping in from the windows was gone, replaced with a soft evening glow.

Yuuri was approaching him with something in his hands. He could feel his ears heating up as he saw him give him a shy smile.

“I saw you barely drank your coffee, so I made you something you might like better.” Their fingers brushed as Yuuri handed him the cup, and Viktor clung onto it as if the drink’s warmth was thanks to Yuuri’s hands.

“I tried to draw a poodle in your foam, but it came out pretty terrible, didn’t it?” A hand flew to the back of his head, a sweet, soft laugh leaving his lips as pink tinted his cheeks.

Viktor felt unusually excited about this gift, his heart throbbing loudly against his chest as his gaze didn’t know what to fix on; the cute drawing of Makacchin on his drink, or the adorable blushing man standing next to him. He decided for the latter, feeling as all as he was filled with new life the longer he looked at him, as if all of the depressing reasons that had led him to flee to this city were gone now, the only thing left being one single warm emotion clutching his heart.

“ _Wow!_ ” His mouth formed a heart as he returned his eyes to the drink, praising every detail he could see. “This is so nice, _Yuuri_!” He almost wanted to keep it as a treasure; drinking it felt like such a waste to the effort Yuuri had put on it.

He patted the seat next to him, looking up at Yuuri with a big smile on his face.

Yuuri looked around, glancing quickly at the streets. The lack of signs for new customers allowed him to sit next to Viktor, his hands clenched on his lap, his position stiff compared to Viktor’s, who almost seemed to be melting in Yuuri’s direction.

“Do you think you can take me to that flower shop some day? I’m not used to with the streets yet. I might get lost.” To his surprise, a playful tone clung to the last bit of his words.

“Yes!” Viktor beamed at the positive response. “How long have you been in Hasetsu?”

“I arrived a few weeks ago. I’m staying at a hotel nearby.”

He realized confessing that was probably a mistake, since with him being technically close to the shop and Hasetsu’s small population; it would seem weird that they hadn’t met before yesterday. Though, before he could add in an excuse to spending most of those days confined in his hotel room, Yuuri had already replied.

“I see. I—I saw you walking in the park with your dog a few times. What was his name?”

That surprised him, as if he had completely forgotten the few times he had been outside to walk Makacchin. The thought of Yuuri looking at him from afar made him feel more than he had thought he would. “Makacchin.” He replied, his voice soft.

“I don’t know your name, neither.”

“Viktor Nikiforov.”

Yuuri repeated it with ease.

“I’m _surprised_. I thought you’d butcher at least my last name.”

Yuuri pouted, frowning and Viktor’s heart skipped a beat.

“Someone who has a thick accent shouldn’t be saying that.”

Viktor laughed, barely getting a glimpse of the flicker in Yuuri’s eyes. He made it a mental note to never stop looking at him. “It’s not that bad. I’ve been told I’m a _genius_ for learning so fast.” Though, not as if that meant anything to him.

“What if those were lies?” Viktor’s interest in Yuuri only seemed to increase with every second he spent with him, the almost sly-sounding nature of his question opening a window to other layers of the barista’s personality. He felt a spell was being casted upon him as he wanted to tread deeper into that opening.

“Then, I’m probably embarrassing myself right now.”

Yuuri laughed. Viktor found himself almost bewitched by the sound.

“Ah, your coffee’s going to get cold.” Both of them seemed to have forgotten its existence, even if Viktor kept it clutched within his hands. Viktor looked at it, butterflies flying in his stomach as he met the small poodle Yuuri drew for him, at the same time as a nastier feeling tried to crawl towards the surface.

“ .  .  . I’m sorry. I think I have a stomachache.” He kept the anger at his own body – or what he had done to it to find himself in this situation – to himself, giving a brief melancholic look at the coffee before he shoved these familiar rising feelings aside, now trying to cling onto what was left of the previous atmosphere between them.

“Really?! I’m sorry! I made you another coffee without thinking about it.” Yuuri took all the blame to himself, the short-lived melancholia in Viktor’s face being rivaled with Yuuri’s current expression, showing his emotions with little to no shame as he apologized to Viktor, bowing his head slightly before trying to take the cup from Viktor.

“You had no way of knowing. It’s okay.” He let go of the cup almost sadly, looking at the drawn Makacchin one last time before it left his hands. “I should be the one apologizing. You made this for me for free, yet I can’t drink it.”

The two cold cups of coffee he had ordered were now gone as waste.

“It was a gift, so it’s okay.”

“We’re even, then.” Without Yuuri at his side on the table, he seemed to return to the reality that surrounded him. He looked outside the shop through the glass after the quietness within it became more apparent once they both fell in silence; it was late, and there were barely any people in the streets.

“You should be heading back. It’s getting late.” Yuuri stole the words he didn’t want to say, the sadness in Viktor’s eyes going unperceived as he looked at the clock on the opposite wall.

Viktor agreed, bottling up his desire to stay for a bit longer. He took his jacket from the chair’s back and swung it over his shoulder, “Good night, then, _Yuuri_.” Giving one last smile to the barista, he pulled the door open. As he took one step out, the calling of his name stopped him.

With curious eyes, he turned over his shoulder.

Yuuri had one of the many white flowers the decorated the shop in his grasp, the effort put into holding Viktor’s gaze without breaking it even once notable in the slight trembling of his hand and shoulders. He walked up to him from the counter, holding the daffodil at chest level before extending his arm towards Viktor, bowing slightly as he did it, eyes shut closed.

Viktor blinked once, twice, eyes going from Yuuri’s trembling frame to the flower at the tip of his fingers.

And slowly, he felt like he was floating again.

“For me?” Words were playful yet soft, as he let fingers linger on Yuuri’s before taking the flower out of his grasp, handling it with such care as if it was a an ancient relic. “Thank you.”

“See you tomorrow?”

Viktor smiled. “Of course.”

* * *

The streets had been unusually cold. He was aware the winter season wasn’t over yet, but it had been worth noting how the cold he hadn’t minded days ago was now the reason behind his quick steps. He observed the puffs of air leaving his lips, remembering the steam of the coffee and its warming heat in his hands. He remembered Yuuri’s voice calling out his name before he left, then wishing him a good night after handing him a pretty flower from the vase on his counter.

Viktor greeted Makacchin as he opened the door, dropping to his knees to take his dog into his arms. He tangled his fingers into the animal’s fur, kissing his head before getting up to his feet again.

The poodle walked behind him, wagging his tail. Viktor wondered if his pet knew him so well he could tell when he was in a good mood, as rare as that was.

He had neither a vase nor a pot, so he improvised one for now; a tall glass with water would serve its purpose just fine before he was able to buy something more worthy of his gift.

Makacchin jumped into the double size bed with him, lights turned off. Viktor wasn’t sure if the change in his routine would help him fall asleep any faster, but he was weirdly okay with the uncertainty of the question. Staying awake, that night, didn’t mean being at the mercy of unpleasing thoughts.

Yuuri, he whispered into Makacchin, looking at the flower on his nightstand before closing his eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rises from the dead with a new chapter. i hope u enjoy the gayz

He was breaking from his routine.

And he felt so strange after such a long time he didn’t know whether to call it something ‘good’ or not.

But it must’ve been, because if it wasn’t he wouldn’t be eagerly putting on his clothes to run out of the walls he would’ve confined himself in before, regretting he didn’t jump downstairs as the elevator’s speed suddenly became painstakingly slow. Even the speed in which they opened wasn’t fast enough, as he slid into the lobby as soon as they opened enough for him to dash out.

He was late. 2 minutes late, but late nonetheless.

Funny, if he thought about it. ‘Late’ was something that had never been in the same sentence as his name. He was quite the opposite. The successful business man Viktor Nikiforov was known for being too perfect at what he did, but him never being late for meetings of any kind didn’t mean that he was just too excited to stay at home. His growing disgust at what he was supposed to call home was what rushed him out of it in any chance he could, preferring his office or any waiting room than the luxuries he had vainly surrounded himself with.

But now, of all days he could’ve decided to actually not be on time for something, he was walking with a hurry his legs wasn’t accustomed to, the whole room around him disappearing as the only thing that existed were him and the entrance a few feet before him.

He wished he could at least excuse himself saying he slept over, because that’d mean that he at least managed to reach a depth of sleep that seemed more like a myth at this point to him. It’d mean he slept over an alarm and ignored the sunrays hitting his face as he comfortably buried himself in the mattress and the soft pillows, but no. It wasn’t anything like that, of course.

If this was so important, why was he late, then? Simple. He lost the track of time, as he usually does.

Before his vacations, he had something to force him to keep his concept of time updated, an alarm waking him up and another one sending him back home. But now, without the duty of an exhaustingly dull job keeping him on his toes, barely standing still from the cliff behind him, time and all those useless things were easily forgotten. If the sky was dark it was night and that’s all he needed to know. Like that, he had gracefully spent more than he should have switching between staring at the ceiling and hiding his face in his poodle’s fur before he’d open his eyes to see that lonely white flower staring at him. In silence, he stared back, and almost dismissed it in the lazy fog that his mind was in this hours of the morning before it all snapped a bit too quick for him to fully understand at first; forcing him out of bed even if he didn’t quite yet grasp what was so important that he had to get up already. And now, he was cursing himself under his breath as 2 minutes became 3 and he felt like the good things that had happened to him were already crumbling over one stupid mistake Viktor Nikiforov would make.

He had a date.

Well, that was a way to put it. It wasn’t necessarily a date, but it could turn into one. Yuuri offered himself to accompany him to that flower shop they had briefly talked about, and the mere idea had been a target of Viktor’s attention for the most of the night before he conciliated a brief sleep. He honestly didn’t know how he could’ve forgotten it the moment he woke up.

He searched for Yuuri once outside of the building, his heart almost sinking as he didn’t find any signs of the barista. Then, he felt something poking his shoulder, his name following it.

“Viktor!”

Recognizing that sweet voice, he turned around immediately, pushing back the despair that had rushed him out of the hotel.

“Yuuri--”

“Did I make you wait? Sorry!” He stole the question out of Viktor’s lips, the suddenness of the reverence that accompanied an unnecessary apology catching the business man off guard. A smile slowly crept into his lips, relieved at the implications of that question.

“I was going to ask the same.”

Yuuri looked relieved as well. “I guess we’re both bad with time.”

Viktor’s smile grew slightly, forgetting completely to say anything in return as he basked in the shine he swore he could see come out of Yuuri’s . . . everything. His voice, his eyes, his smile, his face; the way he said his name in his Japanese accent, the way he averted his eyes when they held each other’s gaze for too long, the way he smiled when he was embarrassed, the way his cheeks reddened when Viktor stared at him.

Ah, _good morning_.

* * *

Hanakotoba. That’s what the sign on the store said. As Yuuri had told him, a friend owned this place and this friend also happened to be very well known in flower language, so if Viktor had to trust anyone in decorating his place with flowers, he had to trust her. Of course, Yuuri said all these nice words under the assumption that Viktor did have genuine intentions of lighting up his hotel room with flowers, but truth be told the single daffodil he had on his nightstand was enough for him. Choosing and buying more stuff that he’d rarely pay any attention to felt like a waste of time, but right now it also sounded like an appealing concept as he walked into the store, following Yuuri.

He drowned in a wave of pleasing scents as he walked in, flowers arranged in the front of the shop to form together a pleasing atmosphere welcoming him to venture deeper into the room. It was simple yet elegant, not too crowded that it was too much for the eye, but not too few of them to let one feeling like something was missing. A right amount of a variety of flowers.

It felt healing, his senses hit by the imagery accompanied by its scent, yet it wasn’t as overwhelming as the smell of processed coffee beans in Yuuri’s shop. If anything, he walked deeper into the shop, his legs unconsciously taking him to a bunch of white ones. He remembered the one resting on his nightstand and his chest tightened for a second, a small smile escaping him.

He recognized greetings being exchanged in the background, names and honorifics flying about, totally thrown over his head as he found himself lost in a brief daydream. These were the type of flowers Yuuri had bought. These were the flowers Yuuri had given him.

“This is Viktor.”

The mention of his name made him return to his senses, eyes meeting with brown hair as he peeked over his shoulder, then turning around to see a young-looking woman talking with Yuuri.

It didn’t take longer than a second for him to recognize her, and the same seemed to be the case for her.

She seemed to have been staring at his back, and her expression wasn’t hiding too much as she stayed quiet in thought. She was the girl that saw him looking hopelessly at the hotel building the other day.

It wasn’t as if he was trying to keep his misery a secret (he could leave that only for when he was at work), but the feeling of someone that knew him – or was getting to know him, and was a friend of someone he was interested in – wasn’t something he was familiar with. He would’ve preferred to keep his mental health out of his life in Hasetsu, neglecting it and avoiding it with distractions that he had deprived himself of for a very long time, but now this girl seemed to be a walking representation of how he couldn’t run away from his problems no matter how many planes he took. There was nothing to blame on her, of course; the problem itself was Viktor’s fault and he was well aware of that. If he hadn’t dropped his façade in public, if he hadn’t met Yuuri (though, that’d only let him in a far worse scenario than becoming friends with someone that knew a little too much about his true emotions); he took decisions that led him to this moment.

He smiled politely. She bowed her head at him. They didn’t exchange anything more than greetings and a few compliments to the shop from Viktor’s part, who settled for being quiet as Yuuri talking again, managing to restore some of the calm he felt before as he merely looked at him and listened to the sound of his voice.

It didn’t matter if someone knew, as long as he could look at Yuuri.

“Ah, actually,” She clapped her hands, “you can show him around yourself, Yuuri! I don’t think you need me to pick what’s best for him.”

“But you know more about this . . .” Yuuri trailed off, Yuuko’s sudden change pushing him out of his comfort zone instantly.

“I’ve shared enough of my knowledge with you and you know _him_ ,” She gestured at Viktor, “more than me.”

“Yeah, but . . .”

“No buts! I need to see you in action for when Takeshi is out and I have to take care of the kids. This is your surprise trial; you brought in a customer, now you have to deal with him.” She crossed her arms, an innocent smile spreading across her features. Viktor could see that, even to the woman who used the current situation and past conversations to her advantage to bend Yuuri’s will to her own. He wondered if they were childhood friends, or if Yuuri was this submissive with everyone he knew. “Unless,” She continued, “you don’t want that extra money.”

“That ‘extra money’ isn’t even solid, just a possibility if that situation happens.” Even though Yuuri dropped his head in defeat, he eyed Yuuko, pushing up his glasses. Yuuko pouted.

“It _can_ happen.”

“But--”

“Agh!” She threw her head back. “Okay. Okay.” Then, she turned to Viktor with a big smile on her face, her hands clasped as she leaned in slightly towards the tall man, her voice going up in levels of sweetness compared to when she was arguing with Yuuri (where it was more casual) as she called to him as ‘customer’ in Japanese. “I’m sorry you had to see that, my staff is quite stubborn sometimes--” Yuuri tried to interrupt by calling her out, again, on how he wasn’t part of the staff, but she continued, “—but I have to ask you, who do you want to be attended by: me,” she gestured at herself with both her hands, “or him?” She turned them to Yuuri, her smile becoming a bit all-too-knowing for his taste.

She remembered him, she remembered the face of hopelessness he had that day and she saw the change in the Viktor now standing before her, even if it was small.

He turned to look at Yuuri, brows drawing closer as he smiled softly at him, a warmer pink taking over his ears. “If you don’t mind.”

Yuuri’s face responded to Viktor’s words and smile, the same pink that plagued Viktor’s ears, and threatened to appear in his cheeks, invading Yuuri’s face, who limited himself to nod.

That nod was the answer Yuuko waited for; it was her sign to leave the customer with her friend and hop right back behind the cashier machine to take any other customers that’d come that day. Part of her hoped none would come (which would allow her to even water outside flowers or just leave to the back of the shop), but her wishes for her childhood friend and the stranger she knew a little too much of couldn’t become her priority.  

Even so, she still hoped her shop would become a nice place for the two of them.

Viktor’s gaze, which he barely put any effort in dissimulating, was caught locked on the daffodils.

“Do you like those?” Yuuri asked softly as if to not break Viktor’s fierce concentration on the flowers. “I thought of those, too, but . . . I thought you’d want maybe something different.” Viktor’s eyes left the beauty of the bunch of flowers to look at another type of beauty, his gaze softening almost instantly. ‘Guess I was wrong’ was what he could read on Yuuri’s expression, who seemed utterly defeated.

“I suppose I could get something different.” He poked his bottom lip with his fore finger, looking around the other variety of flowers. “But these . . . I like these more.” He talked about the flowers – or he was supposed to be talking about the flowers, Yuuri knew he had to be talking about the flowers – but his eyes were fixed on the barista and remained on him as he looked away.

“Let’s get you more, then.” His voice didn’t hide his nervousness, nor did a poor attempt in doing trying to tone down the tics of anxiety in his mannerisms. But Viktor kind of liked that. Yuuri’s feelings were out on his sleeve, no matter how negative. They had known each other for merely a few days now, but he felt as if he trusted him more than the people he had been working with in Tokyo for months. The way he was so open with his feelings – how his personality wasn’t about deceiving, but instead showed him everything he was thinking – was refreshing for Viktor, who had come from a cold, analytical world where being a liar almost felt like a requisite to be successful. Everyone was reserved, and most were assholes when they weren’t. People treated you nice for convenience, not because they had actual interest in you as a human being. It was sickening, and had he not tried to run away – or taken a needed vacation, as that implied this break wasn’t eternal – he was sure he would’ve lost his mind somewhere down the road, if he hadn’t lost it already.

He was sure some of it was gone. But it felt as part of it was coming back as he watched Yuuri get the flowers ready for him. He took as many as he saw fit and hesitated a lot, checking for any signs in Viktor’s face but finding none as he just smiled at him (maybe that was a bit of cruel of him, considering thathe was the one that told him to pick as many as Yuuri wanted, and that it looked as if put more pressure on Yuuri over something so trivial). Though, as he observed him, he realized that the owner of the shop was right; he was fitted to work in here. All the pressure Viktor nonchalantly put on him aside, his hesitation appeared when he was picking the amount of flowers, not when he accommodated them into a nice floral décor. Viktor assumed that him and his childhood friend had taught each other about the jobs their dream jobs, the things they held a passion for.

Ah, when was the last time he had thought of **_passion_** and ** _job_** in the same context?

He brushed the thought about his job away, going back to the flowers he found himself liking more than he ever had before.

Viktor’s mind was snapped back into reality, kept away from daydreaming Yuuri laying on a bed of flowers as a soft ring tone broke the silence (comfortable for him, awkward for Yuuri, maybe) between them. It wasn’t his phone . . .

“Sorry, give me a second!” He even hesitated in taking the phone out of his pocket. “Go ahead and take these to Yuuko – ” He looked at the screen, already heading outside the shop. He picked up, but covered his phone with one hand immediately after as he added, “unless you want more, then this’ll just take a second.”

He did as Yuuri told him, smiling to himself as he found it a bit funny how the barista was still thinking about the right amount of flowers for Viktor. Carefully, he put the décor in the counter.

“How was his service?” Yuuko asked, eyeing Yuuri’s job, granting it with a high score, Viktor assumed, as she seemed to be pleased with it.  

“He’s skillful. Is he really just a barista?”

“Yuuri’s really good at many things, but he doesn’t see it most of the times, or at all. He fixes on his mistakes.” Yuuko leaned over the counter, resting her face on her palms. “When we were younger, it was really infuriating to see someone better than me beat himself down. Though, I tried not to show it. It’d just make it worse if he thought I was angry.”

“That is infuriating.” Viktor looked over his shoulder to get a peek of Yuuri’s profile, standing outside the shop, his lips moving as he took part in a conversation Viktor couldn’t hear. The sound of the cash register turning his head back to the woman. Gloved hands looked through his coat’s pockets for his thin wallet, lacking any cash as it was just filled with the needed documentation and a few cards. No pictures.

“Are you feeling better?”

The question came out of the blue, leaving Viktor quiet for a moment as he failed to grasp the meaning of those words for a second, as if she had switched into a language he didn’t know of or had used the wrong word in the wrong context. He frowned slightly, but didn’t know what that frown was directed at; the woman who knew and seemed to be showing concern for him, or himself, who didn’t have the slightest clue of how to answer that besides lying. A ‘yes’ accompanied with a fake smile would be the automatic response in work, if that question was ever even brought up by a worker who showed how little focus they put on their work by noticing that there was something wrong with their boss.

But this wasn’t work.

 “. . . A bit.” That was as much as he had ever opened up, _and it was to a stranger_. That reminded him about something he had heard about therapists, about how it wouldn’t be useless, it wouldn’t be a waste of his endless money because it wasn’t anything like talking to a close friend or your family, being alone in a room with a stranger that asked the right questions worked, somehow, but Viktor never got to try it. Scheduled appointments would keep getting delayed until they were cancelled. The only doctors he ever saw where physical ones, and those wouldn’t tell him what was wrong with him in detailed, analytical explanations accompanied with big terms and photos of his brain and his heart with big black stains on it that were the virus that was eating him from inside.

“Are you still staying in that hotel?”

Viktor nodded.

“Is it easier?”

Viktor hesitated, then nodded. It was a vague question, but he understood it. It was easier to walk in and to walk out, this morning he hadn’t even noticed . . . that’s how easy it had become! It was a tad easier to sleep, and slightly easier to wake up.

Yuuko didn’t say nothing else, just smiled and gave Viktor the price of his purchase. Viktor mimicked her silence and handed him his card, pressed in his password and then took his card back.

“Actually, can I pick these up later?”

* * *

It was a pleasant evening. Ignoring the slight bump in the flower shop (that, in the end, wasn’t that bad at all) it was the best day Viktor had had so far. The beginning was rushed and he had feared that none of this could’ve happened because of his lateness, but that had been relieved once Yuuri apologized for the same mistake. The middle was perfect, spending time with Yuuri in his hometown and see him around flowers like an angel felt like a visual cure to his depression, as well as just walking around with him under the excuse of how he needed to be shown around to not depend on Yuuri as much (but he definitely would in the future, memory is a fleeting thing after all). Hearing to his voice and just having him close brought him a feeling he was still marveled at and craved for more, clinging onto it – onto Yuuri – as the only light of color in his black and white world. If he wasn’t limited by the hours of a day, he would’ve spent more time with him. He would’ve asked him more questions, he would’ve returned to take Makkachin out with them and even give him his dog’s leash. But it had to come to an end.

Even then, it wasn’t too bad. It was maybe as good as the middle, for he had the promise of more in the next day. That and the little detail Yuuri left him with.

A wave and a ‘goodbye’ were enough for Viktor – why wouldn’t they be? He didn’t think about it as something that was less than what he really wanted to do; what he wanted to do was spend time with him, and they had spent the whole day together – but Yuuri seemed to think different. It was sudden and it caught Viktor off-guard: the barista closed the distance between them too fast for him to even step back (instinctively) and cut the height difference  between them by standing in his toes to place a quick, chaste kiss on Viktor’s cheek.

“Goodnight!” Viktor only got a glimpse of Yuuri’s face as this stumbled backwards and disappeared into his property, closing the door behind him, but his face wasn’t even as red as he expected it to be. His fingers reached for his cheek, for the exact spot that Yuuri had kissed, touching it lightly as the feeling lingered in his skin, the tingling warmth of Yuuri’s lips releasing that feeling of _butterflies in his stomach_.

Yuuri kissed him first . . . A kiss on the cheek, but it was a kiss nonetheless.

 _What a turn_. Maybe it was for the evening spent together, but Yuuri was more daring than he expected.

Cute.

Smiling to himself, he set on his way back to the hotel. Few people still remained outside, and most of the lights coming from stores were gone, the street posts lighting up gently his way. He was starting to like this place more than expected – actually, there were a lot of things he was starting to like more than he had expected. His hotel room was still an exception, but flowers were on top of the list, as well as latte art and the winter weather that made Yuuri’s nose red.

Once back in his room, after giving Makkachin a warm greeting, he placed the floral décor wherever was closer to his bed and sat down on the mattress, his hand petting the dog that was already on his side.

It wasn’t too late, but he felt like sleeping – or trying to do so. Something told him it wouldn’t be too hard this time.

Though, as he slipped into more comfortable clothing, his phone buzzed loudly against the glass table he had left it on. Without noticing, he walked to it with more urgency than he would’ve done before, unconsciously hoping it was Yuuri.

That had been dumb. They hadn’t shared numbers yet, for some reason. Viktor had forgotten and Yuuri hadn’t brought it up. Maybe both trusted in how close they were from each other, that they didn’t need to communicate through texts or calls.

So, instead of inexplicably seeing the name Yuuri Katsuki in his screen, he saw something else. It was still a Japanese name, yes, but it wasn’t anyone in Hasetsu.

Viktor’s expression didn’t change, but all the feeling Yuuri had filled him with felt as if it was slowly dripping out of his palm, in between his fingers like water, leaving him back in the same state he had arrived to Hasetsu with.

It was from work.


End file.
